Sex: FemaleShe'd stood by to watch as Phineas buried their son beneath the ground. It was frozen. He'd had to push through the incredible layer of snow to find the dead earth below. She could remember now if there had been any grass. Did it really matter? No, it did. Every detail mattered absolutely. The woman racked her mind for the answer, and found that there had been grass. It had been frozen, but it was still there, still and green, eagerly awaiting the return of spring. She had carried him down that hill, that hill lacking grasses, she was certain, and crossing the borders into the Glen, things became cloudy. At the base of a bare magnolia tree, she'd placed his body. Recalling this now, she could not tell the snow from his figure. His father had taken up digging the grave. She'd wanted to, honestly she had. But she was selfish, grief had frozen her like the grass beneath the earth and Phineas had been left to do it alone. What a bitch, She thought bitterly.Like a wraith, she'd watched him, disembodied. Nails against earth, breaking through the ground relentlessly. It had been frozen for moons now, endless moons. No one had expected such a winter, so who had really been keeping track of how long it had been? Spring would come soon, it would, but there would be infinite numberless days until that day arrived. Time ticked by endlessly as she watched him dig this hole. Sometimes she wondered why he was doing this and then the day would dawn upon her again. What time of day had it been? She couldn't recall. All she could remember was white and the tiny flecks of green from the grass that had been uprooted. But then there was the brilliant hue of red across the white and the green. It hurt her eyes and burned her nose, and it wasn't until many moments later that she realized the red was blood. The earth, so set in the ways of winter, was solid, and he had dug so hard that his paws had started to bleed. And yet she still hadn't moved. But why was it that she felt farther away than ever? There was a distinct dizziness in her head, it made the world before her eyes move away then closer and back again before she truly felt like she was spying on him. How she longed to lift her paws and stop him before any more crimson disrupted the snow, some devilish mark upon their pack, she feared that there would be no way to hide in...when the spring came, red flowers would bloom in its place. "Phineas." She uttered, the word spilled out unceremoniously. He was gone. The body was gone. The blood was gone. The only evidence of their presence had been a few blades of grass and a disturbed mound of snow. He was gone. He was gone. He was gone. They were gone. he was gone. This rattled around in her head for a while. It was dark. Inky black around her, clouds closing in above her head. She could not say how long it had been dark, only that it certainly was. Nothing stirred around her. No wind to disturb her or to move the clouds and light her dismal world. She was alone with no one and for some reason, she could not comprehend this. "Phineas, did you bury him?" She asked no one in particular. When there was no answer, she finally found the will to move. Her muscles screamed, hinting to her that she'd been still for many hours. Pin prickles ran through her legs.A few feet forward to what had been miles away just hours ago. Her paws fell upon the disturbed snow and, as though a feline predator had just descended from the tree, she collapsed upon the grave. For a matterless amount of time, she laid there like that. Limp, awkward, dead? But she began to stir slowly, her limbs reeling into her chest and belly as she writhed to her side, head tipped back in such a morbid fashion that one might have thought that, save for the fourth limb, Kyros might have come through frozen earth and snow to see the sky again. Her muscles seized uncomfortably as she felt her jaws parting against her will. Warm pink tongue moved about in the cold air like she was trying to speak, to form a word that she could not quite place. In a final moment of release, her shoulder rolled forward as her head was thrown forward in an arch through the snow into her chest. Freezing, wounded, crippled, she screamed. It was a terrifying and foreign sound, wrought with anger and anguish. Her lungs were emptied of air and the sound was soon nothing more than a question in the minds of those that had heard it. Had that happened? She knew it had. Her throat burned, tortured by freezing air and the razing of her vocal chords. Unable to make another sound, her body began to twitch, then shake as grief came over her in relentless waves. No tears fell from her eyes, but pained gasps of air seethed from still parted jaws. More time passed. It was still dark when she realized that there was light around her. The clouds had been moved and the moon was visible now. She'd long stopped writhing and vocalizing in her own weak manner. Curled in a ball upon the grave of her son, one liquid gold eye saw the moon above and eyed each star around it until it hurt to focus. Eyes squeezed shut, she began to mutter, "I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise." Over and over she repeated this, each go around became more and more pained as her voice grew more hoarse and unintelligible. There was a hint of sun upon the horizon before she found herself empty. There was no emotion left within her. She was a husk. It was earth she laid upon, empty, frozen earth. She told herself this, a pathetic lie that she could not even convince herself of. When she rose to her paws finally, a spell of dizziness rolled over her again, and she stumbled forward, breathing heavily with her head cocked towards the sun. It was done. She was done. In a night of utter weakness and pathetic outbursts, she'd bled herself dry, alone. No eyes had watched her, no ear knew that the scream had been hers. The world beneath her would continue to shift and she would not have piteous eyes gaze upon her as she whimpered about the pack den. It was done. The emptiness would linger for sometime, certainly, for she never let things go without some difficulty. Corinna's relationship with her elder brother, Weldering's betrayal, Hypatia's kidnapping...There was a list a thousand miles long and each one had weighed upon her in some way or another. She saw fire before her eyes, a hazy recollection of her birth and the fire. She had burned alive that night. Her parents had not survived that, she had, even on this night she had done so again. She would burn a million more times in her lifetime, certainly, but each time she would survive. Somehow.
it is not my intention to powerplay any characters in this narration. this is simply something from borlla's admittedly twisted pov after the death of her son. any pp that might have occurred within the text above is assumed to be borlla's interpretation and invention. if you would like to presume that your character was present for any part of this, please message me.
(This post was last modified: Mar 03, 2014, 05:32 AM by Datura.)
Lurking until the end of July - Please PM/tag me to get my attention